Isaiah
43:16-21, John 12:1-8
How many
Episcopalians does it take to change a light bulb? Ten.
One to actually change the bulb and nine to say how much they liked the
old one. Now, it’s not just
Episcopalians who often prefer the way things used to be. Years ago I was invited into a home of a
historian whose particular area of expertise was the rise and fall of gas
lighting during the 19th century and early 20th century. He was so committed to his studies that he
had restored his own historic home in D.C. to its original glory which meant
that all the indoor lighting was by gas.
It was night when I toured the house and I particularly remember two
things. One, how dark the home was and,
two, the owner’s comment about how when lighting homes by gas was first
introduced the complaint was that it was too bright. It makes sense because up until that time
people had only lit their homes with candles and oil lamps. Gas lights by comparison were shockingly bright
and harsh. But as people do, they got
used to it. So much so that several
decades later with the introduction of electric lights guess what the critique
was? The very same thing - too bright
and too harsh.
The impulse to
prefer things the way the used to be is nothing new. Understandably this is how the Israelites
feel in our Old Testament reading as they survey their current situation -
living as exiles in the foreign land of Babylon after invaders had destroyed
Jerusalem conquered them. Who wouldn’t
want to go back to the way things were when they were an independent people,
when they lived in their own land, when God seemed present and active in the
well-being of their common life? They
had plenty to pine for.
Yet it is during
this time of exile and despair that we hear the prophet Isaiah speak, “Thus
says the Lord, who makes a way in the sea, a path in the mighty waters….” What is he talking about? The prophet is reminding the Israelites about
the amazing things God has done for them, in particular, the dramatic rescue
out of Egypt. Isaiah continues, the Lord, “who brings out chariot and horse,
army and warrior; they lie down, they cannot rise, they are extinguished,
quenched like a wick.” The prophet seems
to be fanning the flames of nostalgia, “Ah yes, the good old days….” But then Isaiah goes in a completely different
direction. As everyone is basking in the
memory of how great things used to be he tells them to stop it, knock it
off. “Do not remember the former things,
or consider the things of old,” says the prophet. Why?
Because “[God is] about to do a new thing.” God is going to do something new, something
different and he doesn’t want his people to miss it because they are clinging
to the past. As wonderful as it may been
in years gone by wanting to go back is not the way to prepare for something
new.
For “I am about
to do a new thing,” says the Lord, “now it springs forth, do you not perceive
it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.” In a seemingly hopeless situation of
captivity the prophet calls upon the people to not lose heart but instead to
pay attention. To look with expectation
for the signs of God’s coming work. What
they don’t know yet is that political forces are changing. Soon the Persians, led by King Cyrus, will
defeat the powers in Babylon. Israel
will be released and begin a new journey back to their beloved homeland. This is God’s new thing.
Now fast forward
almost 500 years and let’s see the new thing that is going on in our reading
from the gospel of John. It is six days
before Jesus’ last Passover meal on this earth which we often refer to as the
Last Supper. His time is short. And here Jesus and his disciples are dining
at Lazarus’ house. Martha is engaged in
her specialty, serving. Mary, who always
seems to march to the beat of her own drum, takes a pound of costly perfume,
anoints Jesus’ feet with it, lets down her hair and then proceeds to wipe his
feet with her hair. I don’t think any of
us can really grasp how scandalous this act was on so many levels - the “waste”
of perfume that was worth about a year’s wages, the anointing of a living man’s
feet which was an act reserved only for the dead, a woman letting down her hair
in public and then further breaking social and religious taboos by touching a
man. It was absolutely shocking. And it was a new thing - a new thing that
Jesus accepted. Not only accepted but
expands as he goes on to speak about another new thing that was about to happen
- his impending death.
How could Jesus’
unjust death be a new thing of God? How
could death on a cross be a means that would overcome the all powers of
darkness, revealing the light of God’s passionate love? In a few days hence God was about to do this
new and ultimate thing. A thing so new,
so unexpected, so shocking that for some it was, and still is, hard to
perceive. Yet the love and power of that
act continues to touch and transform every day of our lives.
So what new thing
is going on in your life right now? It
may, or may not, be something that you particularly want to embrace. Could it be, though, that God calling you to
let go of the former things so that you might perceive what is now springing
forth? Change is hard and it is
especially so when it feels as if we are being asked to let go of a past that
has been filled with good things. Yet
because we know God is good. Because we
know God is love. Because we know God is
with us we need not fear but greet whatever new thing comes into our life with
trust, faith, and confidence. We may be
people who tend to prefer the familiar, to pine away about how lovely the light
was from the old bulb, but if we do we risk missing the new thing that God is
doing now. For God is always calling us
to grow, to change, to live into the fuller brightness of life in Christ. God’s light shines with fresh radiance each
new day. Let us open our eyes, our
hearts, our lives and see.
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